


Trust

by Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise



Series: Marlowe Fics [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Original Universe, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9836825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise/pseuds/Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise
Summary: After the onslaught of the maneating beasts, the remnants of humanity retreated into walled compounds for a meager hope of survival. Overcrowded and underfed populations soon devolved into war. The solution developed was brilliant: A virtual reality matrix. Citizens would enter a state of stasis in which their bodies would both require less food and be incapable of true harm. The policy was put into effect and with their memories adjusted to fit the program, humanity entered a virtual world that would enable them to hopefully outlast the "Titans" in peace.It malfunctioned.





	

"How...how did we get up here?" Her eyes were round. Wind whipped her honey curls into her face and she squinted against them. Dark clouds billowed above and a thundering rumble made the cathedral below creak and groan.

He backed towards the edge. "Do you trust me?"

Confusion was evident in the crease of her brow, distress in the glitter of her eyes and the catch of her voice. "What's going on?"

His heart hammered in his chest. "Listen--I can’t explain much and I’m sorry. There isn't time. What matters right now is do you trust me?"

She swallowed. The building shuddered again, a crash and cascade of bricks falling beneath them.

There wasn't time. There wasn't time. His throat tightened, stomach flipped over--but he couldn't rush her. She had to come to the decision herself, and if he forced her to give an empty affirmative it could cost...

Her voice was a whisper nearly lost to the mounting wind. "I trust you."

He put out a hand and she walked towards him.

"Hurry."

A little faster she closed the gap between him, hesitated a moment and her gaze flitted from his hand to his eyes. She took it. Her fingers were chill, soft, small.

A bone-rattling crack struck the building and threw them to the ground. He pulled her upright and to the edge. The floor began to slant as the building tilted.

"Marlowe! What's happening?!"

"This world is collapsing."

The building had begun to sway. All around the world shimmered, flickering in and out in patches of darkness, fizzing and re-arranging and pain split through his head. He looked away and it subsided. Viewing the gap between construct and reality was more than the brain was designed to handle. He stepped towards the parapet and her eyes were round with horror. "Don't--what are you doing?"

"Not what you think." He gripped her hand between both of his, pulled it to his chest. "Do you trust me?" he asked again.

She shuddered with a breath. Rain pelted down in stinging drops and she winced. She nodded.

One foot on the edge; 500 feet of air beneath them until the ground and his heart slammed against his throat. What if he was wrong? What if this was a mistake--what if he was leading them to their deaths? Well...they would die anyway, but this would be the more painful end. 

Her eyes stared into his, frightened but somehow steady at the same time.

She trusted him.

If he couldn't trust himself, he would trust that her faith was not placed lightly.

"Look just at me," he said. He pulled her up and against him as he tipped back off the edge and into space. She gasped and he squeezed his eyes closed, holding her tighter and clenching his teeth against a scream. He couldn't let any doubt into his mind or it would be over. Her too. She had to trust him even now--

He opened his eyes. She was clinging with a deathgrip, her face buried in his neck. He put his lips to her ear. "Hitch."

She turned to look at him.

The ground rushed closer...melted away in the stormclouds mirrored in her eyes. Even if he was wrong--even if this was the end--it wasn't such a bad one. By the look on her face her thoughts ran along the same lines. He kissed her, and suddenly it didn't matter where they were or where the ground was--

A bizarre feeling, like his consciousness being torn from his body and her warmth was gone, the sensation of her grip on his shoulders fading--

 

He gasped and opened his eyes. Dark. Red. A red square several inches above his right hand. It was cold; body numb, each breath a lance through his chest. Close--there was a wall close above him. His breath was loud in the tight space. He tried to move. Something was holding him down. Tugging sensations when he shifted.

"Hitch?" He voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. He coughed and swallowed. "H--" A dizzy spell. Sweat trickled down his face.

The soft red light came into focus and his throat tightened. A clear roof--he was in some sort of cylinder. Tubes and wires crisscrossed his skin...

" _Linking you into the machine."_

A flood of memories.

_"You'll have been asleep for a long time," he said. "It will be difficult when  you first awaken. The wires will need to come out, and it won't be pleasant; best to get it over with quickly, before the feeling returns."_

He pressed the red square--emergency release button. The cylinder shuddered and with a hiss the lid separated and opened. A rush of moving air brushed across his face and he sighed. He exhaled and shifted. Yes, his body was still numb. He exhaled again. The wires had to be removed. He winced. This was gonna be a doozy when he could feel again.

He pushed himself upright in an oddly sensationless orchestra of snapping, pulling wires. He shrugged against them but their grip was firm; he seized the ones on his arm and tore them free. Blood oozed up from a myriad of tiny cuts and nausea slammed against his throat. He looked away and choked it down, exhaled shakily once, sharply twice, and then vaulted up and over the edge of the cylinder onto the floor, leaving a jangling assortment of blood-tipped wires writhing in the capsule.

He scrambled back to his feet and fell back again, dizzy. Blood welled in globules and ran down his bare arms and legs, stained the loose hospital-style gown in scarlet pricks. More nausea and he heaved.

Up ahead was a door. All around him...

He flinched, closed his eyes, caught his breath. All around were the bodies of the others, still in stasis. Still dreaming...not for much longer.

_"And the others? What of them? Will they simply die along with the rest of it?"_

_The man's head bowed. There was a deep sadness in his eyes. "If they cannot be persuaded to awaken, then yes."_

_"If we know it's going to happen, why aren't more people talking about it--why can't we persuade them?!"_

_"How did you feel when I told you this world was crumbling? That the entire thing is an illusion, rusted and falling apart?"_

_He shook his head. "That was different. I saw--in my dreams. I knew something was wrong. That's how you contacted me. It was odd but I knew something was off and as bizarre as your explanation was, it seemed to fit the equally bizarre things going on. Why can't you contact them the same way?"_

_"Not all are open to it. Believe me, I try. I search for those whose longing hearts force their dreams into the Lace. But...that number is very few."_

_"How--" He shook his head, folded his arms. "So many."_

_"Change what you can, like I do."_

He rose, and on unsteady feet walked to one of the capsules and peered inside. A middle-aged man slept. Trapped. Marlowe closed his eyes, bowed his head. Amazing that the figure only a foot beneath his palm could be an entire world away, utterly inaccessible. He exhaled.

The red light shuddered and extinguished. Icy fear slammed into his gut. Pitch dark. He froze. Seconds ticked by.

There was a slight mechanical groaning sound and the light turned on again. He pressed his fist to his lips and took three successive breaths, each a little longer than the last. He had to move quickly. His clothes and belongings should be somewhere...beneath the capsule. He returned to it.

A few wires still swayed gently, spilling over the side.

He knelt and found a small safe with a combination code. He paused a moment. 0-2-2-8: February 28th. His birthday. The safe opened and he pulled out the drawer. Inside was a backpack and a change of clothes. A faint stinging began on his skin and he winced. This was gonna be bad. He unzipped the bag and rummaged through. He was prepared, wasn't he? Yes. He had packed water and a thing of painkiller. He uncapped the water with the distinct and unpleasant feeling that this resource was going to be very limited in the upcoming time.

After taking the medicine he pondered attire. Best to see if there was a clinic anywhere first--he could at least treat the worst of the cuts before putting on more confined clothing. He started hurriedly towards the door.

_"So, after I wake up. Where will I be? What happens?"_

_"Your body will likely be close to the area projected into the construct. If you moved on from there, say, went international, your body will still be where it started out. We entered the network at large centers specific to an area. So if you can find one, you can likely find a good number of people. No matter where they went in the construct, their bodies will remain in the centers where they entered. The only problem is that our memories were adjusted as we entered to make the transition more seamless, and in the event that our stay in the construct might be indefinite."_

_"So I likely won't be able to find you."_

_"...There is one way."_

His heart sickened, stomach flipped over. Somewhere, Hitch was waking up...

_She'd laughed. "Swiss, yeah. Home of the holey cheese. I'm the first from my family to ever leave the country for an extended time. I hope I can head back for a visit soon..."_

Even then it had sent a pang through his heart--back when he was just getting to know her. Where had she entered the machine? Her native Switzerland? If their memories were doctored to fit the transition, too...could they even know?

_"What about you? Freudenberg, right?"_

_"Yeah. German. Born and raised here. My mother was of Romani descent, hence my not-so-aryan complexion."_

_"Ooh! Was she a gypsy?"_

_He smiled._

_"Sorry, is that rude to ask?"_

_"No. She was a gypsy through and through and was proud of her heritage. It was always strong in our family."_

_She chuckled. "I never would've guessed. That's really neat..."_

Waves of nausea churned through him. He hadn't explained anything. _Do you trust me?_ She had, and now she was alone--possibly hundreds of miles away. No context, no knowledge. She'd have to tear herself out of an unresponsive machine. What if the escape mechanism jammed? Had he saved her from a quick death only to prolong it over days of suffocation, starvation? What had he done? No, no--

He opened the door. The halls were lit with eerie red light, dark and quiet. Had others walked this path before? Or was he alone a survivor in this soon-to-be-tomb? No, none of the other capsules from here had been opened. He was the first. There was a compound map on the wall to his right.

_"I don't know if you'll have access to a map, but thankfully you won't have to guess where you are for too long once you're outside. We call them waypoints. There should be quite a few now, scattered throughout the cities; survivors wake up, write their bearings on the walls in hopes that others might see. Colonies will write their locations to bring other survivors their way. Places of note--sources of food, sources of water, anything in the area that helps survive--that's where you'll find them. Some places have provided compasses. Some have provided tools to make one and instructions on how to do it. It will be difficult, but there is a way. You can also write personal instructions to others, maybe to meet you at a certain bearing at a certain time. The only requirement is that once a personal message is filled, you block it off somehow to make room for others. There's generally a separate section of the waypoint for things like that."_

There was a clinic, not too far. He set off at a light run.

If she was in Switzerland distance alone was no trouble; he could walk it in only  a few weeks. Barely a blink in the grand scheme of things. But she could be anywhere.

He should've explained more. It would've sounded crazy, and he had desperately needed her to come, to trust him. He hadn't wanted to risk invalidating himself with crazy-sounding talk. But...he could've made a way.  What was she feeling right now?

No. She was resourceful. She was smart. She...she could be worse off.

Upon entering the clinic he rifled through drawers, grabbing bandages, medicines, whatever he could get his hands on. He quickly slipped on the trousers in his backpack under the hospital gown and set off back down the hall at a full run. Back to the map. The door should be...

_"You'll be underground. A vault of sorts." The man's face looked unspeakably grim. "What you faced to escape the Lace was only the beginning. Do you remember why it was instated?"_

His heart throbbed against his throat and tears welled up, spilled over, dread like a physical blow against his chest. Hitch. Hitch had no idea. She--she'd be--

_"You'll need to get to the armory. The code to open the door is 2845. Get an extra set if you can carry it; you'll need it to survive out there. Keep off the ground."_

Armory. Armory. Look around--keep your head.

Another creaking whir and the lights died. He put a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes...summoned the  image of Hitch as they fell, the reflections in her wide eyes...the soft look she'd had, as if, like it had been for him, the terror was second to their being together. Dark silence and his racing heart; the lights came on and he released a shaky sigh. 

On the wall ahead was another map. He ran to it and located the armory. Not too far. He arrived and approached the panel, plugged in the code. The door slid open and he entered. Stacked boxes lined the walls. He took one down and opened it. A strange set of gear. Strange, but somehow familiar. No time to assemble it yet. He inspected three other boxes from different areas in the room to be sure they were all the same and seemed to have everything included that the man had spoke of. Yes. He took two and set out at a jog for the main door.

They were heavy. Doable, but not for long. He'd have to make do, though. When he met Hitch, there was no guarantee that she'd be appropriately outfitted. Pain from the myriad cuts was beginning to make itself known. Hopefully adrenaline could keep it at bay. What if the door had malfunctioned along with the rest of the compound? He shook his head. He couldn't afford to think that. Plus, it was likely wired to a different system in anticipation of that very thing.

At last it was before him. Sweat ran down his face and he set the cases before the wall. Within a panel outlined with broad black and yellow stripes was a compartment. He closed his eyes.

_"It's going to be locked, and only a very few people can open it. Fortunately, I am one of those people. The code is 0845. Remember, though...there's a reason they don't want anyone opening that door. Be careful. Travel up high; if you have to take the ground, do so at night. That gear is gonna save your life, so take good care of it. Wear it always. Your only hope of survival is the ability to go Omni."_

He paused, then dialed open the door. There was a grinding creak, a shudder and it slid to the side. Fear clawed inside his chest and he gripped both cases. Moonlight glimmered on falling dust displaced by the door. He stepped over the threshold with his luggage and opened one of the cases. The equipment inside was...wait. He'd used this.

A deluge of memories; his life prior to the construct, his life in the MP. Yes, he'd used this! He lifted his shirt. Sure enough, the familiar scars criss-crossed his skin--vertical lines, over his hips and across his chest. He half-smiled. Even if he had had no idea how to don the equipment, those marks would've been instruction enough.

The straps were painful on the cuts, but there was nothing much to be done about it. With a heavy rumble the door closed behind him. How to carry the second set of gear...? It wouldn't fit in his backpack. Maybe he could stash it somewhere. Or maybe he could find another set? That was less likely. At the same time, if there were any other survivors, carrying around such a valuable piece of equipment could make him a target.

He'd leave it here. The facility had been build into the side of a cliff face. It had been a while since he'd used this equipment, and he was both weakened from the sleep and oddly balanced, but he had to start somewhere. He checked the gas canisters and fired up the 3DMG, shot anchors into the wall and connected with a force felt in every cut on his body. He hissed between his teeth. A little further above was a small outcropping. He fired slightly above it, came in too close to the wall and kicked to swing out, made another jarring impact of a landing and panted a bit on his knees. It was only about two feet of space, but there was a deep-ish cleft in the rock. He tucked the case inside it, then sat with his feet hanging over the edge. Before him was a courtyard, silvery white immediately outside the center main but lost in inky darkness towards the edges. A wall rose, blocking the light but illuminated in a bright strip of silver along the top. His journey would begin there.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Maybe a one-shot? ;)


End file.
